One More Step by Sheree Fitch Read Free Book Online

dressed in their uniforms got up there and sang, “I’ve Been Working on The Railroad,” there wasn’t a dry eye anywhere. Except for me.
    At the end of the song they played a two-minute tape recording of train whistles. I hadn’t expected that. “Poppie,” I whispered and that lump in my throat burst like it was some sort of dam holding back my tears. Nana squeezed my hand. I let her hold me while I bawled like some big baby. Those damn whistles.
    Poppie heard.
    I’m sure of it.

Chapter Thirteen
    Chris was right as usual. I only used this diary for a bit, then forgot about it. I dug it out today because I figured I needed to add a page or two. Things change in a year and half. Things can change in a moment, for that matter.
    Anyway. They did it. Tied the noose. I mean the knot. Yep. Jean-Paul and Mom got married today. In Nana and Poppie’sFitch backyard, with the garden in full bloom. It was a picture-perfect day. I kept thinking it was going to rain. I figure Poppie made sure it didn’t.
    Chris and I walked Mom up the garden path to where Jean-Paul was waiting. Mom looked scared but beautiful. Her dress was this floaty, lacy thing and she had flowers tucked in her hair. Like wow! Not bad for an old bride! There were big bouquets of pink and purple balloons on either side of the patio where they said their vows. In English and French, of course. The balloons were a big hit. There were almost more kids than adults in the crowd. Almost every kid who ever went through Thumbalina’s Day Care Center showed up.
    Anyhow, Chris and I took part in the ceremony too. Well, all we had to say was, “I do,” after some prayer about committing to this new family. I did. Say, “I do,” I mean. And it was the only moment I was a smart-ass all day. I scratched my head first and said, “I dunno,” then, “Oh, yeah, I do!” It got a laugh.Well, we needed a break at that point. Comic relief. They gave me and Chris rings, too. Mine’s too big. I’ll grow into it.
    Maybe when I do, I’ll have grown used to Jean-Paul, too. Most of the time, we get on. My French is better and so is his English. He wants me to go scuba diving with him sometime. We’ll see. I don’t trust him that much yet! We had one big scene after we all moved in together last year.
    One Friday night, I stayed out past my curfew. Okay, so the sun was coming up by the time I made it home. Jean-Paul was waiting. Mom was in bed. I have a feeling she heard it all.
    â€œYou’re supposed to call if you’re going to be late,” he said. In almost perfect English.
    â€œSorry,” I said. I just wanted to get to bed. I tiptoed past him, stumbled and knocked over a chair.
    â€œHow much have you had to drink?”
    â€œA few beers.”
    â€œLooks like a lot of beers to me.”
    â€œGoodnight,’ I said.
    â€œSee you tomorrow,” he said
    I hurried to my room and prayed for the ceiling to stop spinning. Then I grinned. Well, I thought, that was easy. He never even yelled. The wuss.
    At seven o’clock the next morning he pounded on my door. “Get up, Julian.”
    â€œWhy? It’s Saturday.” I moaned.
    â€œI need your help.” He was still outside my bedroom door.
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œI need your muscles. Have to bring the tub in the house.” He was re-doing the bathroom.
    â€œLater,” I mumbled and turned over.
    â€œI have to do it now.”
    â€œSorry,” I said.
    He opened the door quietly. In a voice just as quiet he said, “It will only take ten minutes. ”
    â€œGet out!” I yelled.
    â€œWant the cold water treatment?” He was holding a pitcher of water over my head.
    â€œYou wouldn’t dare.”
    He started to tip it. So, I huffed and threw off the covers. “Get out,” I said, “I’ll be right there.”
    â€œI’ll be in the driveway,” he smiled.
    I